Playing You Better
by BlueeyedIrishSherlockian
Summary: John grows tired of Sherlock playing the violin and demands to know if he can playing anything better.


Playing You Better

John slammed the flat door behind him. He could feel anger and annoyment pumping through his system, the result from a long, difficult day at the clinic. It wasn't made any better by his boyfriend still standing in the same spot he had left him over seven hours ago. Sherlock was still playing the damn violin, the same melody in fact. John rolled his eyes and sat down in his chair with a heavy groan. The headache was made possibly even worse by Sherlock's violin. He tried to put up with it, just because Sherlock was working on a case. He couldn't put up with Sherlock being annoyed or possibly bored again. They only just paid off Mycroft for staying at his place for when Sherlock's experiment went wrong.

Half an hour later, John tossed down the newspaper he was attempting to read. He simply couldn't concentrate with the growing headache or Sherlock's playing. Sherlock hadn't even stopped playing once while he was in the room. He hadn't even bothered to answer John's question about the case. John knew it was a useless attempt to even try to get him to answer, but he still tried. John, himself let out a huff of air and ran a hand over his ruffled blonde, graying hair. "Is there anything you can play other than that melody?" he snapped. It took a few seconds before he realized the room went still, quiet. John sucked in a breath, eyes moving to Sherlock. He had said something wrong. He knew it the moment his eyes laid on Sherlock. He was still, bow in hand and the violin hanging loosely in his hands. John swallowed, knowing Sherlock could hear that and his heavily beating heart. He was about to reply, about to tell Sherlock how sorry he was until Sherlock moved. His movement was quick, the violin placed in his chair and the bow placed over John's throat. John laid his head back, daring to meet those gray eyes. They were full of _lust. _"I can play you," Sherlock said in a deep voice that sent a shiver down John's spine.

John found himself staring into Sherlock's eyes for several minutes, unable to reply. He finally caught himself when he felt the pressure from the bow on his throat. He swallowed and forced himself to look away. "I am sure you can," he replied in a choked voice. Sherlock removed the bow quickly, leaving a small red line on John's skin. He smiled as he slowly returned his bow and violin to its case. "Oh, I _know_ I can," he said with a smile, turning back to face John. He walked around John, arms folded as his eyes took in John. He stopped before John only to place a finger on his parted lips in order to hush him. "Do not move," he ordered, "Do not talk. I will return and when I return you will strip in front of me." He removed his finger, meeting John's eyes with a point. He could see John's eyes brewing with lust and obedience. He smiled a smug smile and left the room. He returned with several things in hand: his riding crop, rope, and a ball gag. He smiled at John's eyes widening at them and nodded to him when he didn't speak. The soldier could follow orders well, he found this very exciting.

Sherlock spent the next half hour simply teasing John in many ways. He got him to sit down in his favorite arm chair, his prick half hard. Sherlock enjoyed teasing John, loving to push him to his limits. Of course, Sherlock received the same treatment in bed, but when he had his turn; Sherlock used it well against John. He took the rope he had from left over experiments and weaved it around the chair with John in it. The end result was John's wrist tied to the chair and his ankles tied together by a separate piece. Sherlock stepped back for a moment, looking over John with full lust in his eyes. He was proud of his work with John being so vulnerable, so beautiful. He smiled fondly, looking into John's eyes. They showed love, lust, and the absolute small amount of fear. Fear for the unknown of what Sherlock was going to do to him. This made the smile on his lips turned to a smirk as he picked up the gag in hand. He weighed it for a moment before walking back to John. He pressed his lips to the soldier's, the kiss turning from one of sweet to hot and heavy within seconds. Grasping the gag in one hand, Sherlock gripped John's hair and pulled away. "Open your mouth," he ordered, sliding the gag into John's mouth. He smirked as he buckled it behind the other's head. He walked away, grasping the riding crop in hand. He swung it around, letting it brush over John's tan skin. _This, simply this is where the fun begins._

Sherlock struck John's open thigh's hard as he dared. He watched as John screamed in pain and struggled again the pain. The struggling, as Sherlock has told him many times before was useless, but the soldier still struggled. He watched the welt rise up on his thighs, joining the many that were already over his body. The detective smirked as he walked around the soldier, stopping right behind him. He let his breath settle on the back of the soldier's neck, watching him whimper and squirm. Sherlock's eyes fell on John's hard prick. It was leaking by now, twitching with each of John's whimpers and movements. Smirking, Sherlock gripped John's hair tightly in a fist and used the other to place the crop under his throat. He watched as John whimpered and swallowed, the crop moving slightly. "You really are enjoying this," he hissed in John's ear. He heard the whimper as a reply and a slight nod of the head. John was so easy to control, so easy to satisfy.

Sherlock loved to hear John's whimpers. He loved to push him to his limit. That's what he did. He dropped the whip on John's thigh's as he spread his legs as far as they would go in the bonds. He took John's throbbing cock in his mouth all at once, swallowing him whole. He wasn't gentle as he used his teeth to brush over John's sensitive head. John tasted…like _John. _It was simply too hard to explain how John tasted. Yet only thing Sherlock knew was that he enjoyed it. He didn't want anyone else, but John. John was his. He sucked hard on John's cock, positioning his head in the back of his throat. He started to hum slightly, letting the hum vibrate his cock. He was rewarded with John's sweet whimpers and yells of pleasure. John was squirming, no doubt very much close to finishing. Yet Sherlock wanted to draw it out as much as possible. He continued to hum until he was sure John wasn't able to hold on much longer. He sucked hard on John's cock, brushing over his head with his teeth again. He was right. John _didn't _last long. He was only given a millisecond warning of John's mumble of Sherlock's name before Sherlock felt and tasted John in his mouth. He swallowed, pulling off of John with a sweet _pop _sound. He slowly got to his feet, licking his lips. He took the gag off of John and met his eyes as he kissed him deeply, allowing John to taste himself. When Sherlock pulled away, he was grinning. He bent down, whispering in John's ear. "I can play you better than my violin."


End file.
